Hiruma's Plan
by Schadenfraude
Summary: Hiruma comes up with a plan that involves putting Sena in a miniskirt and letting him loose in a hotel filled with football players. In the end, it turns out that no one wants to bone him. Hiruma is remotely disappointed.


This is just a fic in which miniskirt!Sena and everyone around him is straight. Just wondering where I would go with this silly idea.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

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In his posh hotel room that was suspiciously roomier than that of anyone else's on Team Japan, Hiruma was typing away on his laptop while Mamori made the beds and fluffed the pillows.

"Oi! Manager!" said Hiruma. "What are you, the cleaning lady?"

Mamori looked at Hiruma out of the corner of her eye. She placed her hands on her hips and said, "It's only polite to clean up after ourselves. You left your bubblegum wrappers everywhere!"

He left lots of gun magazines lying around too but Mamori knew she wouldn't win that battle. She would have to pick those up herself.

"There's the cleaning staff, what do you think they're here for?"

"It wouldn't hurt to be tidy!"

"What, and put them out of a job?"

"We're not pigs!"

Hiruma decided to start ignoring her. Just when she opened her mouth in protest, he threw a bubble gum wrapper neatly over his shoulder where it hit Mamori in the face. Before Mamori could grab her trusty broom, someone knocked on the door.

Mamori gave Hiruma one last glare and composed herself. "Come in," she said.

At first, she could've sworn that the door opened by itself. It slowly creaked open and the mysterious visitor didn't say anything. While Mamori looked confused, Hiruma grinned and said, "Well? We haven't got all day! Get in here!"

At first, Mamori thought it was Suzuna dressed in what appeared to be a racier version of the Devilbat costume. But she looked closer and realized it was spiky-haired Sena in a tiny red top and skirt. Hiruma held up a stack of envelopes and said, "C'mere."

Before Mamori could react, Sena had already dashed across the room and taken the envelopes. She looked and saw the words 'Grab Me' printed across the back of his skirt, right over his rear. Mamori could scarce believe her eyes. "Wh-what?!"

Hiruma was, of course, wearing his Hiruma-Cheshire smile. "It's a new design for the Deimon cheerleading outfit," he said. "Like it?"

Mamori felt her face burn. She took Sena into her protective grasp and said, "Don't bully Sena!" With her arms encircled around him, she soon realized that Sena was wearing hot red _leather_. What the heck, she wouldn't let Suzuna wear it, much less Sena!

Hiruma looked at Sena with his sharp-toothed grin. "You volunteered for it, didn't you?"

Mamori felt Sena flinch. "Y-yes. Um, bye, I'm going to deliver these letters now."

Sena slipped out of her arms and dashed off, his little wings bouncing as he went.

"Hm," said Hiruma. "He runs pretty fast in a skirt."

Mamori and Hiruma preoccupied themselves with arguing for the rest of the morning.

**ooooo**

At three in the morning, Sena woke up to a gun barrel in his face. Hiruma dragged him out of bed with ease (Monta and Riku pretended the gunshots hadn't woken them up) and gave him explicit instructions for the following morning. Sena, still groggy and tired, asked, "What are the envelopes for?"

"The manager and I picked out some strategies and pointers. You'll be distributing them."

Well, Sena couldn't really say no seeing how Hiruma pointed a gun at him the entire time, so he nodded quickly and tried not to make any unnecessary movements. Sena was so relieved when Hiruma put the gun away that he had nearly missed the last part.

"Don't forget the skirt."

So here he was in a hotel with a stack of envelopes to deliver and a red leather skirt hugging his decidedly male hips. Sena would've changed his clothes but Hiruma would've known and the consequences would've involved lots of rope and explosives.

First up was the rest of the Devilbat team. He knew where Musashi, Kurita and Monta were though he wasn't entirely sure which suite the latecomers shared. Sena knocked on the door to Komusubi's room; Musashi and Kurita used his room while Hiruma was working. He heard Kurita say a cheerful, "Come in!" Well, Kurita was nice and Musashi wouldn't laugh or anything. Gathering up his courage (and fixing the hem of his skirt), Sena went in.

"Hi Sena!" said Kurita as he pumped a pair of massive dumbells. Sena gaped. Had those dumpster-sized dumbells been in the luggage?

Komusubi sat there beside his master and pumped his own set of massive dumbells. "Fugo!"

Musashi didn't manage anything more than a wave in Sena's direction. He seemed immersed in a novel. When Sena thought about it, maybe that was a lucky break. If everyone was distracted, maybe they wouldn't notice his skirt.

"Do you need something, Sena?" asked Kurita.

Sena nodded. "H-Hiruma t-told me to give you these."

Sena handed an envelope to each of them, leaving Musashi's on his bed. Well, that went pretty well. No one commented on his strange outfit, though he couldn't imagine why. Certainly not because he wanted them to notice. Sena turned to leave, but he heard someone say, "Sena."

_Ohgodohgodohgod_

It was Musashi's voice. Grew-chest-hair-at-age-five Musashi. Would-probably-never-respect-a-guy-in-a-skirt Musashi. Sena stopped in his tracks and stood still. "Y-yes, Musashi?"

"You've got something between your teeth."

Oh...

Oh!

Sena scratched the back of his head gave a few self-conscious laughs. "Ha ha! ... ha... thanks."

Either Hiruma had mentioned this to them already, they were too preoccupied to notice, or the psychic link they had all developed under Hiruma's tyrannical leadership told them everything they needed to know about the situation. Sena thought that all three possibilities were equally viable.

**ooooo**

On his way to the next room, Sena saw the three brothers sitting down in the middle of the hallway. Well, he was going to have to get around to them eventually...

Sena cleared his throat. "Hello Juumonji, Kuroki, Toganou."

The three brothers turned to look at Sena.

"Ha?"

"Haaa?"

"_Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_?"

Sena expected that response. Following an awkward silence, Sena shuffled his feet and handed them three envelopes. "Umm, bye."

"Wait!" said Juumonji. He reacted quickly and grabbed Sena by the shoulder, but then he paused like he was at a loss as to what to do next. Sena hoped he wasn't going to take blackmail pictures. "Umm," said a visibly uncomfortable Juumonji, "just... wait, 'kay?"

Juumonji ran down the hallway and disappeared around the corner, leaving Toganou and Kuroki with a very embarrassed Sena.

Sena scratched his head. "So... Juumonji's getting something from your room?"

"Yeah," said Toganou. "We might have to wait a while."

Kuroki explained, "Our room's a bit far away."

A minute or so of awkward silence passed before Kuroki spoke up again. "So... Hiruma?"

Sena nodded. "Hiruma."

Which roughly translated into, 'I'm being his bitch'.

Finally, Juumonji came back. He stopped in front of Sena and stared at him for a while.

Sena felt nervous being stared at so intensely. It didn't help that Juumonji wasn't looking at his face but rather at his skirt. Sena pulled down the hem and said, "Is there something wrong? Er, aside from the... the obvious..."

Juumonji looked to the side. Sena blinked. Was he blushing?

"Here," said Juumonji gruffly. He tossed Sena a tube of vaseline. "In... in case it chafes."

"Not that we'd know," said Kuroki as he also started blushing as well.

"Yeah," mumbled Toganou, "not like Hiruma ever forced _us_ into leather skirts."

The three brothers stared at Sena's little red leather skirt and gave a collective shudder. Sena realized that they were probably recalling painful memories of their own, something along the lines of leather's high friction coefficient and blackmail. Their trauma was so severe that they had taken to carrying vaseline half-way across the world in the off chance that their experience would repeat itself. Without needing to be told, Sena understood that what he had just learned was not to be spread to another living soul.

**ooooo**

Sena arrived in front of the room he shared with Monta. Every second spent standing in the drafty, air-conditioned hallway reminded him that he was in a skirt. Well, Monta was a friend, wasn't he? Wouldn't he show at least a little sympathy?

Sena had an intense staring contest with the doorknob, and for some reason or another, he lost. Then he reminded himself that it was a doorknob. Not that it made it any easier for him to knock on the door.

"I'll get it, Suzuna!" Sena heard Monta's voice through the door. Suzuna was in there? "I'm coming!" said Monta as his footsteps grew louder.

Well, wasn't that great. Another witness to his skirt-clad predicament. And it had to be Suzuna, of all people. She was nice and cute and all, but the girl had a thing for gossip and teasing.

The door opened and Monta locked eyes with Sena. Then, as quickly as the door had opened, Monta slammed it shut in Sena's face. Sena stared at the doorknob again.

"Gah! Angry MAX!"

Sena could still hear Monta albeit a bit muffled through the door and wall. So much for friends.

"Monta? Who was that?"

"I don't know! Someone must've pranked us, there's a call girl outside the door! She's got such a tiny top I can see her sternum!"

Of course, the smart course of action was to clear up the misunderstanding as soon as possible. Seeing how that was the case, Sena threw himself against the door in a fit of tears and fist-pounding.

"Monta! Monta! It's me, Sena, and I'm not trying to sell myself!"

What Sena actually said was less intelligible and more whiny.

**ooooo**

"Sorry," said Monta. "I didn't realize it was you." Just as Sena had hoped, Monta was quite sympathetic upon realizing his mistake.

The three friends were sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor. Sena didn't particularly like sitting on the floor because his skirt was far too short to hide anything sitting down. Suzuna snickered. "Those are some very cute kitty boxers."

To which Sena replied by pulling his skirt as far down his crotch as possible and muttering something about "sentimental value." Suzuna really was the worst of the lot; she never missed a chance to tell Sena how sexy he was or how she could see miles of his athletic legs. Because Monta laughed every single time, Sena seriously considered revoking their "best friends" status.

"I'm surprised Hiruma let you wear boxers," said Monta. "I thought he'd force you into girl stuff. You know, all the way down to the essentials."

Sena flinched. "I begged really really hard..."

Sena decided not to mention the contract.

When Suzuna had her fill of poking at Sena's exposed midriff, she got up. "Well, it's been fun but I need to go. We need to prep a cheer for the USA match tomorrow." She winked at Sena. "Can't let them think we let our manly ace come up with the cheers, hmm?"

"Ha ha ha," said Sena. He tried his best to enjoy her joke but he didn't particularly like being reminded of his situation.

Monta laughed. "Oh! I get it! She called you a cheerleader 'cause you're in a skirt!"

Clearly, Monta wasn't helping.

"Quit it!" protested Sena. "Look, it might be funny to you, but this is really, really embarrassing for me!"

Monta sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry Sena, but it's hilarious! Look on the bright side; you fill out that tube top better than Suzuna!"

This was not the right thing to say while sitting right next to Suzuna. As it turned out, she knew a little karate. Thankfully, Monta stopped the blood flow before he lost consciousness. Despite his usual goodwill, Sena found himself unsympathetic.

**ooooo**

Sometimes, Sena wondered if everyone knew about Hiruma and his... quirks. Well, maybe quirks was the wrong word for it. Slavemaster tendencies, more like. But it came to Sena's attention that not everyone would see Sena in a skirt and think, "Hiruma must have put him up to it". They were likely more prone to thoughts that were unkind and made his sexual preferences suspect. Thankfully, Monta agreed to accompany Sena for moral support and in case he ever needed any help.

Monta thumped him on the back and said, "Don't worry! We'll get through this no problem! Easy peasy just like gravy!"

Well, _he_ wasn't the one in a skirt under threat of worse-than-death from Hiruma, but it did make Sena feel better that Monta would be coming along. In case Sena's vocal chords failed him, Monta would be there to explain why Sena was in a skirt and how it was a product of Hiruma's "unorthodox genius", they'll call it. Throw in a word or two about a little black book and, hopefully, all the questions would melt away.

With their plan of attack in mind, the two headed off in a non-descript direction until they wandered into the lounge. There was Mizumachi, sprawled across a sofa wearing a pair of Hawaiian swim trunks. Near him, Kakei leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. In contrast to his companion, Kakei was wearing a sweatpants and a shirt. Sena guessed that the two of them had just returned from the pool (though it seemed that Mizumachi enjoyed his pool attire).

Mizumachi whined about how he hadn't meant for his swimming trunks to fall off. Was it his fault if there happened to be a hot girl sitting in the lawn chair by the side of the pool? Was it his fault if her boyfriend got a little angry and picked a fight? Was it his fault if said boyfriend wasn't aware of Mizumachi's skills as a lineman and ended up getting hurt? Kakei nodded but didn't say much more than a grunt or two.

Sena figured that it wouldn't take too long. Kakei would probably take it in stride and Mizumachi might make a comment or two, but Sena believed that he would get out of this sane and mentally intact.

It started off well enough. Sena approached Kakei first, gave a shallow bow (darn that skirt) and handed him the letter, saying, "It's just some info from Hiruma, heputmeinthisskirt."

Then, Sena went to Mizumachi, did his little bow, and said, "This is from Hiruma, theskirtwasnotmyidea." Sena held out the envelope to Mizumachi but he did not take it. Sena was a little confused, especially when Mizumachi jumped to his feet and gave Sena the strangest look, like a cross between a biology student examining a dissected frog and a mathmatician wondering which part of his twenty-step equation had given him the wrong answer. Then, without any warning, Mizumachi kicked Sena in between the legs.

Hard.

Being in terrible pain, Sena screamed loudly. Kakei sighed and rubbed his temples as though it was a common, reccurring annoyance for Mizumachi to kick people in the crotch. (Maybe it was.) "Don't do that," said Kakei. "Do you want to cripple poor Sena?" Kakei helped Sena up, steadying him as Sena tried his best not to collapse into a boneless heap.

Mizumachi sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, sorry! I guess you _aren't_ a girl!" said Mizumachi as he laughed a little.

However, Sena didn't find anything particularly funny about the situation.

Mizumachi, trying to make light of the situation, went on to say, "Maybe I should've just grabbed your crotch, not kick it. That would've spared you the pain!"

Sena said, "Please stay _far away _from me."

**ooooo**

Meeting up with the Oujou White Knights turned out to be painless, in a sense. Sena met them in the hotel lobby where Takemi, Sakuraba, Ootawara and Shin were all relaxing after a training session.

Ootawara happened to be a simplistic man with a mind that processed things differently from the average person. If he saw a door that said PUSH on its handle, he would push. If he saw a door that said PULL on its handle, he would pull. However, if he pushed a door that said PUSH and it didn't budge, he wouldn't bother trying to pull it. He would just break the door down because that was the sort of simple-minded man he was.

So when Sena was handing out envelopes to Takemi and Sakuraba, Ootawara read the words on the back of Sena's skirt that said GRAB ME. Fortunately, when Sena realized that there was over two hundred pounds of muscle hurtling towards him and aiming to grab his rear, he dodged, proving that his football skills were useful even off the field. Everyone watched in stunned silence as Ootawara barrelled through a row of chairs and the reception desk, leaving behind splinters and frozen hotel staff.

After a second or two of watching Ootawara lie dazed on top of the wreckage, Sakuraba turned to Monta. "So these envelopes are from Hiruma?"

Monta replied, "Yeah, he's making Sena and his skirt hand them out." Sena couldn't resist rolling his eyes. Of course he had to mention the skirt.

Then, he and Monta looked over to Ootawara and noticed a few groans coming from his direction. Sena said, "Is he going to be okay? I mean, he didn't hit his head or anything, did he?"

"It's all right," said Takemi. "He'll be fine. Ootawara has a pretty thick skull."

Sena and Monta suspected that it was just a nicer way of saying that it wasn't possible for Ootawara to get any stupider.

"We... we should go now," said Sena. "There are still lots of envelopes left."

"Bananaloads," said Monta with a nod.

Just as the two of them were about to leave, Shin said, "Wait."

Shin walked over to Sena where he towered over the runningback. Sena couldn't help but gulp. Oddly enough, Shin didn't say anything at all. He simply stood there, his muscular frame casting a shadow over Sena and making him feel very, very small.

After a minute or so of silence, Shin said, "I was under the impression that you had something for me."

Quickly realizing his mistake, Sena handed Shin an envelope along with a string of apologies. Monta raised an eyebrow and said, "You're not commenting on his skirt?" If Sena wasn't the polite boy that he was, he would've elbowed his best friend in the ribs as hard as he could.

However, Shin looked as dumbfounded as a man with a permanent poker face could. He looked Sena up and down. Then, looking Sena in the eyes with his straightest face yet, Shin said, "You mean you don't normally dress like this?"

Sena slowly shook his head. Shin digested this information.

"I see," he said.

And this was how Sena and Monta learned about Shin's ability to recognize people by their build and completely disregard their clothing.

**ooooo**

Sena used to be nervous about going to the gym. Back before he unveiled Eyeshield 21's identity as polite, tiny Sena, all the people at school gave him strange looks when he tried lifting weights, key word being tried. Even now, he was barely any stronger than the average boy of his age but at least people knew his worth was in his speed, not his triceps. Now, it felt natural using gym equipment even if he had to turn the settings way down.

But somehow, he reverted into little timid yesman Sena as he fidgeted outside the hotel's weights room that day. After a little waiting, the door opened as Monta left the weight room. "Oh yeah?" said Monta. "Well, up yours Ikkyu!" He then slammed the door, his face bright red with steam blowing out his ears. He turned to Sena, still fuming angrily as he crossed his arms. "Shinryuji's in there, all right, Ikkyu and the rest of them."

Sena gulped. "And Agon?"

"Yeah, he's there. Anyway, you know what that mole-faced Ikkyu said to me?"

However, Sena tuned out Monta's rants. As Monta went on and on about Ikkyu and something about the humble nobility of a monkey's face, Sena felt himself growing numb.

Was the world ever so cold before? When was the last time he hugged his father or told his mom he loved her? Now Sena wondered if he would ever have the chance. Oh no, what about his will? Then again, he didn't own a lot. Well, at least his parents could adopt another kid. Yes, he'll pass on the message that his parents should froget their poor unfortunate son and find new happiness in their lives, maybe get the daughter his mother had always wanted as a nod to the gods of irony.

Before Sena could finish thinking of all the things he had yet to do in life, Monta grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the weight room. "Let's go!" said Monta as he pulled a reluctant Sena through the doors.

"No wait--" But to no avail. Sena watched the doors swing shut with him stuck on the same side of the doors as Agon. He desperately tried reaching for the door, but unfortunately, Monta had a tight grip on his arm. Sena tried getting his attention, but Monta was too busy shouting to notice.

"Hey Ikkyu! I heard your mole's so big an astronaut saw it from outer space!"

Ikkyu, with a dumb bell in each hand, just rolled his eyes. "Oh, real original. I guess that's the best a man with a stupid monkey face can come up with."

While the two of them argued, Sena took a look around the gym. Thankfully, it appeared he had a chance. Ikkyu and Yamabushi took notice right away, but Agon was working out with his back to the entrance. Sena decided that he would leave an envelope on the bench next to him and then run away as fast as his legs would carry them, which with any luck, would be fast enough to escape Agon's notice. When Monta finally let go of Sena, the runningback quietly tiptoed over to Agon, discreetly dropping an envelope into the lap of a meditating Yamabushi as he passed.

"_Mukyaaa_! For the last time, monkey's aren't stupid looking! They're--"

"--endowed with a humble nobility, yeah, yeah. Don't care. What's up with Sena?"

By now, Sena was close enough to read the settings on the gym equipment Agon was using. It was, of course, high enough to reinforce the idea that Agon was the greatest thing since roll-on deodorant.

"This is between you and me, mano-a-mano! He's not part of this! We've unfinished business--"

With his hand stretched out and the envelope almost on the bench, Sena was ready to let out a sigh. He was close enough to see that Agon had his sports goggles propped on top of his head.

"Whatever. Why is Sena in a skirt?"

Sena froze just as he was about to put the envelope on the bench. He had his eyes fixed on Agon the whole time just to make sure his plan would go smoothly, but now, Agon had stopped exercising.

"Skirt?" said Agaon as he turned around.

Sena found himself face-to-face with a sweaty Agon who had a raised eyebrow. Sena fumbled for the right words to prove his manhood, but he ended up eating air. He resorted to something short and to the point.

"H-hi Agon. Bye Agon."

And Sena was gone, leaving nothing but an envelope in his wake. Monta chased after his best friend after giving Ikkyu several rude gestures.

Ikkyu looked over Agon's shoulder. "Weird kid. He gay or something? Was that a love confession he gave you?"

Agon snorted at the envelope Sena put all his effort into delivering. "Hell no. Hiruma must've put him up to it. The bastard's done worse. The brat should be happy he hasn't been hung up by his balls." He returned to his training.

"Though I'll have to ask Hiruma where he got the outfit," said Agon with a smirk. "See if I can get one of my honeys into that hot little number."

Somewhere in the hotel, Sena stood catching his breath and trying to remember exactly what was so life-threatening about Agon seeing him in a skirt. He had to admit to himself that while Agon was an incorrigible womanizer and a ruthless football player, he wouldn't kill a guy just for crossdressing. Then again, with all that happened Sena wasn't sure if he'd like for someone to put him out of his misery right there and then.

**ooooo**

Thankfully, the rest of his skirt-clad adventure was relatively uneventful. Riku was simply disappointed with Sena's lack of backbone not to mention worried about his choice of hobby. Yamato, being as wonderfully laid-back as he was, joked that his greatest rival had yet another thing over him; Sena could run fast _and_ look good in a skirt. The most unsettling thing that happened was when Kisaragi looked at Sena and said, "I have an outfit just like that at home." Sena and Monta readily assumed that Kisaragi really meant his mom or sister or _something_.

But it was over. Finally over. There wasn't a single envelope left. Sena felt invincible at that moment, like all his troubles were gone. He felt like he could fly, a belief so well-grounded in his state of profound relief that he would've willingly leapt off the nearest balcony. Monta shared his sentiments, mentioning something about being happier than the time he found out the convenience store near his home sold banana-flavoured toothpaste. The two friends were happy enough to drop dead and die happy.

At least, until a door in the hallway swung open and Hiruma popped out. "Congrats!" said Hiruma. "How wonderful to see you again!"

His sparkling smile and radiant eyes sent chills down Sena and Monta's spines. Once again, Sena found that the world was a cold, cold place.

Monta solemnly turned to Sena and held him by the shoulders. "Be strong, Sena. We've been through so much together and I know you'll put up a good fight. In your final moments, think of the best friend for whom you bravely sacrificed yourself and know that I shall remember you. I will name my firstborn son after the late Sena Kobayashi!"

And Monta was gone, leaving Sena to think that he really was too young to die.

"Come, come!" said the kind Hiruma who adopted puppies and helped old women across the street (this made him much scarier than the normal Hiruma). He wrapped his arm around Sena's shoulders and led him into his hotel room. The gentle way in which Hiruma steered him almost made Sena soil himself.

**ooooo**

The agnostic Sena suddenly acquired a taste for religion. There was a god out there somewhere, he knew it, he wished it and _he swore it_, and today was a good day to get down on his knees and pray. Thankfully, Musashi and Kurita were back in the room they shared with Hiruma so Sena knew that there would at least be some trace of his body left to put in the body bag after it was all over. It was a shame that it would be a closed-casket funeral.

Kurita -- thank goodness for that giant ball of kindness and cream puffs -- immediately rushed over. "H-Hiruma! Is there something wrong with Sena? Should I go get the first-aid kit? I know I accidentally ate the bandages, but there's still--"

"Don't you worry your spare tire over him. The shrimp's fine." To prove his point, Hiruma pulled out a chair and sat Sena up in it. He fixed the runningback's posture so that Sena sat up straight even if Hiruma's vice-like grip was the only thing keeping him in place. "See? He's tough."

Much to Sena's chagrin, Kurita sighed in relief and headed for the door. "If you say so, Hiruma," said the lineman. "I'm going downstairs to get some food. Anyone want anything?"

"Coffee please."

"J-juice please."

"Blank CDs please."

One of these was not like the others. Sena experienced a paralyzing feeling of foreboding.

**ooooo**

Somehow, Hiruma hacked into the hotel's surveillance system. Sena wasn't surprised at all. In fact, he would be suspicious if Hiruma did nothing illegal during their stay in America. Sena wasn't sure if it was illegal in USA to duct tape a runningback to a chair against their will, but since when did Hiruma care about technicalities?

From his vantage point, Sena couldn't really see much of the laptop screen. He knew that Hiruma was browsing through the surveillance videos for that day. The videos played at a speed Sena couldn't follow very well. A sudden realization hit him. He was in all of these videos!

"Uhmm, Hiruma," said Sena quietly. "I did exactly what you said, I swear, so you don't need to check andpleasedon'tripoutmyspineandbeatmewithit."

However, Hiruma did not reply and went on as if he hadn't heard Sena. Finally, he stopped browsing the videos and sighed. "Well fuck," said Hiruma. "Nothing worth recording."

Hiruma turned around and, with an annoyed face, said, "Shrimp, you should've at least dry humped someone!"

This was the perfect time to start a career in becoming an escape artist. Sena hopped a respectable distance towards the door before Hiruma grabbed the chair and tilted it back to make sure Sena's legs couldn't reach the ground.

"Oi!" said Hiruma. "The hell are you running for?"

By now, Sena was thrashing against the duct tape and twisting his head from side to side. "I like girls I like girls I like girls_ I swear by the mercy of your Satanic god that I like girls_!"

Hiruma snorted. "Don't get your panties in a bunch. The vids aren't worth much if you're with a girl."

"I'm not wearing girl's underwear, remember?" said Sena a bit too quickly.

"Do your ears work?" Hiruma sighed. "I'll talk slowly, o-kay? Fund-rai-sing. Yaoi. Sell vi-de-os. Fan-girls have deep pock-ets. Un-der-stand?"

Sena could not process it all in one go. Wasn't Hiruma already crazy dirty rich? Why did girls want to see him with other men? Did Hiruma really want Sena to do something with one of the guys that he'd regret in the morning? Hiruma was going to get away with all of it, wasn't he?

Hiruma set the chair down on the floor. "I need to think of something since you weren't any good, shrimp. Stay put--"

But Sena was already gone and the door was impacted so strongly that one of the hinges came loose.

"Whaddya know," said Hiruma. He took out a piece of gum and chewed it with a glint in his eye. "Shrimp ran away with a chair on his ass."

Later, Sena would deeply regret giving Hiruma an idea for a new football drill.

**ooooo**

This was a rare occurrence. Hiruma, as it turned out, was dead wrong on this single count. He supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised; he never bothered searching up the sexuality of players, allied or rivals. Quite frankly, he didn't give a damn. The only sort of ball handling skill Hiruma concerned himself with had to do with a football.

So, when he figured he'd make a quick buck by putting Sena in a skirt and see how much yaoi he could sell, he was slightly disappointed. Not because he didn't get anything to sell; Hiruma was poor by no one's standards. If he had to give an answer, he'd say he did it because he was bored and Sena was much too fun to leave alone. Hiruma wasn't too concerned for Sena. There weren't many rapists who could catch up to Team Japan's star runningback. Even if they did, there was the chance that Sena was in the closet and he'd end up enjoying it and Hiruma would start a small, lucrative business of selling Sena yaoi. Happiness for all.

Except maybe Mamori.

Hiruma didn't know why she barged into his room, but he could make an educated guess that she spotted Sena haphazardly hopping through the hallways while taped to a chair embedded with bullets. That could've only led her to Hiruma.

"You," said Mamori.

"Me," replied Hiruma.

Mamori was not in the mood for a smart alec. "You're bullying Sena again," accused Mamori. "What's this about 'yaoi' and 'contracts signed in blood', hm? And tying him to that chair! What are you, some kind of depraved sadist?"

Hiruma simply remarked, "You'll make a wonderful overprotective mother someday."

This did not deter Mamori the slightest bit. She went on to reciting Japan's laws, many of which did not condone Hiruma's inappropriate behaviour as she kindly pointed out, and then she continued on with America's constitution and everything pertaining to the illegal nature of guns, red leather, and recording software used in tandem. Hiruma, in a confession that would never leave his lips, would say that Mamori was outstandingly intelligent and this was something he admired in her as a manager of the Deimon Devilbats. However, her intelligence did not appeal to him when she used against him.

"Good fucking god, woman," said Hiruma. "You're in the way!"

Mamori crossed her arms. "Of what?"

"My work."

"What work?"

"Lucrative work."

"Is it that footage of Sena running around the hotel in a skirt? I can hardly believe you'd stoop so low!"

"It's called image-editing software, shrimp'll will be safey-wafey anonymous. Hell, I'll have to edit things in! Shrimp's horrible yaoi-bait!"

"Well, what if Agon attacked him or something?"

"You gotta be kidding me. Agon loves tits, or have you not noticed him ogling you through his binoculars?"

"_He what_?!"

Musashi, now largely ignored as he read, could not help but think that it sounded like a married couple's quarrel. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

Mamori sighed and held a hand to her temple. "I don't understand this. You were just bored, weren't you? Why yaoi? Why Sena?"

This unexpectedly made Hiruma stop and think. Moments later and without a word, Hiruma got up, walked over to Musashi where he was sat in an armchair, pulled the book out of his hands and replaced it with his head. It looked, oddly enough, like Hiruma was resting his head in Musashi's lap. Musashi, for whatever reason, decided to go along with it even though he was annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of his book.

With his coyest look, Hiruma tilted his head in a way that looked like he was offering his throat to Musashi. In this position, he said to Mamori, "Because mansex sells, doesn't it, manager?"

Mamori blushed. "I-I wouldn't know."

Hiruma grinned. Bingo.

The quarterback draped his arms around Musashi's shoulders and pressed his cheek pressed against the kicker's neck stubble. "Hot, isn't it?" said Hiruma. His tongue ghosted over his upper lip and he made sure Mamori saw it. If her open-mouth closed-mouth impersonation of a distressed goldfish was any indication, Mamori had seen every ambiguously camp gesture. With the speed she left the room, she could've been a runningback for the team.

"What a nice, wholesome girl," said Hiruma as he wore his best sharp-toothed smile.

Musashi pulled away from Hiruma and sighed. "It's late, I'm going to bed. You coming?"

Hiruma cackled and went back to typing on his laptop. Somewhere out there, a fangirl was eagerly misunderstanding Musashi. Hiruma knew that with a decent image editing program and a team of experts (read: slaves), he could earn a tidy profit.

"Hey geezer," said Hiruma. He pointed his laptop camera at Musashi. "Take off your shirt and tell me you're lonely."

Musashi just rolled his eyes.

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End

**OOOOOOOOOO**

The goal of this was for me to try turning a steamy love scenario into something purely comedic. Every character was meant to be straight but you're free to read differently into it.

Thanks for reading! Please review as you see fit!


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